Page 93 of The Beach Shack Summer
They made the thirty-second journey in funeral-march formation. Mrs. Patterson from next door stopped watering her roses to stare.
“Moving day!” Meg called out cheerfully.
“Three houses,” Tyler added mournfully. “We’re moving her three houses.”
“It’s devastating,” Stella deadpanned. “We may never recover.”
Mrs. Patterson looked deeply confused as they trooped past.
They dispersed Meg’s belongings in about four minutes. Two suitcases in the bedroom, laptop in the office, stolen items strategically placed to look like they belonged.
Stella wandered off while they arranged things, returning with a grin. “Found another trophy in the hallway closet. ‘Most Improved Swimmer, age 6.’ Tyler, you were really bad at swimming?”
“I was six!”
“Still. Mostimprovedmeans you started somewhere pretty rough.”
“Can we focus on the move please?”
“Sure, sure. Oh, and there’s a crayon drawing of a dinosaur eating a surfboard signed ‘Tyler age 5’ behind the closet door.”
“Why are you going through closets?”
“It’s my ancestral home now too. I’m exploring.”
“I need to go back,” Meg announced.
“What did you forget?” Tyler asked, already looking protective of his remaining possessions.
“My phone charger. And that hand lotion. And maybe those crackers?—”
“The crackers are mine!”
“Were. Were yours.”
“This is theft. Stella, you’re witnessing theft.”
“Still seeing nothing,” Stella said, but she was grinning.
They made three more trips, Meg finding increasingly ridiculous things she “needed.” A single fork (“It’s the good one”), a box of tissues (“They’re the soft kind”), and finally, triumphantly, a potted succulent from the kitchen windowsill.
“That’s where I draw the line,” Tyler said. “You can’t take Herbert.”
“You named the plant?”
“Stella named the plant.”
“Herbert needs light,” Stella said solemnly. “Meg’s house has better windows.”
“Traitor,” Tyler muttered, but he let Meg take the plant.
By the fourth trip, the neighbors were openly watching. The sad parade had become performance art.
“Is that it?” Luke asked, trying not to laugh. “Or do you need to go back for specific air molecules?”
“I think that’s everything.” Meg surveyed her new domain—the house now containing two suitcases,stolen office supplies, and one perfect pen. “Home sweet home.”
“We should probably let you settle in,” Tyler said, but nobody moved.
